


You're A Sky Full of Stars (You're A Brewing Storm)

by starfishdancer



Series: On a Wing and a Prayer [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Also All the Friendships - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Space, And Maybe Should Also Pay Attention to her WIPs, Background Fitz/Mack, Because that is what the Muse is dictating, But the Muse Wanted Space Pirates, Found Family Feels, Other Eventual Pairings, Pre-Relationship, Probably Lots of, ShieldShock - Freeform, Slow Burn, Space Pirates, The Author is Figuring This Out As She Goes, Tiptoeing into Writing a New Ship, Yes Firefly is an Influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starfishdancer/pseuds/starfishdancer
Summary: The Space Pirate AU No One Asked For, or In Which Darcy Lewis Captains A Spaceship And Takes On Strays (Including a Very Good-Looking Passenger)





	You're A Sky Full of Stars (You're A Brewing Storm)

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many, MANY thanks to Dresupi for being both cheerleader and amazing beta, especially as I tiptoe into writing for a pairing I've never written before and mostly just lurk around, quietly shipping. Any leftover mistakes are mine, not hers. And if you haven't discovered her as a writer yet, you should definitely check her work out!
> 
> I have every intention of revising this universe; I'm just not sure in what form(s) quite yet. If you like it, I have great hopes for more in, at the very least, vignette form if not shorts of this length.

“Careful! The vials in those are —”

“Fragile, Janey, he knows.” 

Despite the patient exasperation in her voice, Captain Darcy Lewis’ lips were tilted into a smirk, and she reached out to squeeze her friend’s arm in reassurance. “The crates are well-padded, and you’ve seen the rig Fitz’s set up to keep ‘em secure. We could be blasted out of the sky and amongst the debris and ash that’s left of the crew. But, suspended in zero gravity, would be the untouched crates of those vials.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just...” Jane sighed, tugging the georgette silk shawl tighter around her shoulders, even though both she and Darcy knew it was a futile gesture. Randgrid’s second sun wouldn’t return for another three lunar cycles, and the flimsy fabric the ambassador was wearing wouldn’t do much to hold in the heat, no matter how many layers of it she piled on.

“Worried. And cold. You know you don’t have to wait out here. I got this.”

“I know you do,” Jane smiled at her friend. “Still. I hardly get to see you, and a five increment wave every second cycle barely counts. What’s a little chill in the air in comparison?”

“I miss you too,” Darcy dropped an arm around Jane’s shoulders, giving her a small squeeze before stepping away. She rolled long-lashed eyes when she saw Jane’s bodyguard had taken a step toward her, barely restraining a smirk when she saw Jane doing the exact same thing. “Dude, seriously?”

“Protocol dictates—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Darcy said. “If I cared about protocol, I would still be part of Jane’s diplomatic entourage and you’d be taking orders from me.”

“Instead, you told Precept Bor to ‘fuck that noise’ because you weren’t cut out to be a Federation sycophant,” Jane grins. “And then stormed out of the trainee home, but not before making an extremely rude gesture at visiting Prince Loki.”

“Not my proudest moment,” Darcy nodded.

“Really?” Jane said skeptically. “Because I’m fairly certain you are actually rather proud of it.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “But my proudest moment is totally that time I managed to convince Precept Sel that Richard and Ian definitely set themselves on fire.”

Jane laughed. 

“We’re almost done, Boss,” Mack called out. “One more passenger crate to secure, then May’s set to signal the tower for our lift time.”

“We got passengers? Score! Might get enough credit to actually pay the crew this run!”

Jane face dropped, and Darcy can tell it isn’t just the prospect of the visit ending. Sure enough, she has started twisting her hands in the long sleeves of her dress. “Darcy, you should have said something.”

“Nope,” Darcy shook her head. “I told you before, except the cost of the run, your credits are no good here – or rather, they do more good somewhere else.”

“I could—”

“Do what? You already have us pawn most of the dresses you buy with the clothing allowance the Federation Senate gives you so you can pay us—”

“Well, it’s stupid that they give us such a big allotment for clothing we are expected to wear just the one time and absolutely nothing for philanthropy,” Jane grumbled.

“Yet another reason I walked,” Darcy said blithely. “Look, I’m not having you skimp on your food budget anymore. Don’t think I don’t know you are swapping out a Pop Pack for a proper meal more often than you should just to stretch things further, just to put coin in our pockets.”

“You have to eat, too,” Jane countered.

“We eat. Maybe it’s protein and sup packs more than we’d like, but we’re fine.”

“Oh, but—”

“I promise,” Darcy said. “We’re fine, Jane. I look after my crew.”

“I know you do,” Jane said. “I just hope they look after you just as much.”

“They do. Next wave, I’ll introduce you to the Doc. And next time we’re planet-side? You’ll never, ever worry again about no one looking after me after you are forced to taste the sup-enhanced muffins she tries to get us to eat.”

“… Why would anyone want to eat that?”

“Well, no one does, but no one wants to hurt her feelings either so… we mostly just make sure someone else does the shopping so she doesn’t have any anything weird to work with.”

At that, a tone sounded, and May’s voice was broadcast over the intercom. “Attention, passengers of the SS Lampyridae. The ship will be taking flight in approximately ten increments. Please make your way to the departure bay for the safety briefing and orientation.”

“That’s my cue,” Darcy said. Jane threw her arm around her friend, pulling her into a tight hug. It’s immature, but Darcy sticks her tongue out at the bodyguard even as she returned the embrace.

“Stay safe,” Jane said. “And don’t make me wait too long into the cycle before you wave me… Holy Mother of the Moon!”

“What?” Darcy pulled back, hand dropping to the holster on her hip, looking around the loading area. Bodyguard looked as confused as she is, no danger apparent. She turned around and realized in an instant what – or rather who – caught Jane’s eye. “Whoa.”

Striding into the loading bay to nod at Mack is what was quite possibly the most beautiful specimen of a man Darcy had ever seen. Blond hair. A jaw that could have been chiseled by the ancient ancients. And that chest. Mother of the Moon indeed. The way his shirt was stretched across that chest should be illegal. She was just about ready to roll her tongue back into her mouth when he turned slightly and damn, that is one very nice ass.

“That man is most excellently proportioned,” Jane breathed.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “That backside is…” She gestured futilely.

“Yeah,” said Jane. “Wait… does that mean he’s your passenger?”

“I guess so,” Darcy said slowly. She can’t quite believe it herself. 

“So, like, in your relatively enclosed space until whatever border planet in the Meru system…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, you’re definitely going to have to wave me soon, because I want details.”

“Hey, you know I don’t sleep with the passengers! Anymore.”

Both Darcy and Jane cringed simultaneously. That had been a very big mistake.

“Well then… Jane said, trying to wink and failing at it both spectacularly and adorably. “When you dock on whatever planet he’s getting off on… he won’t be a passenger anymore. And hey! You can get off on—”

“Alright, perv, I’ve gotta go. Ship to captain and what not, and you’ve probably got some aged boys’ club federation official to try to charm to pass some bill. So shoo. I’ll wave you to let you know the meds arrive safely.”

“And that you did, too.”

“And that I did, too,” Darcy confirmed, giving Jane a sloppy salute before starting her amble up the ramp into her ship. “And Jane?” she called over her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Good idea, the drop off point. I’ll totes wave you if I can pull something off. Like pants.”

Jane threw her head back and laughed as the ramp closed up behind Darcy. Brushing her hand through her hair to push it back off her forehead, she scanned the cargo bay, making sure everything was secured. It was habit more than anything; Mack was thorough, and they’ve never had a problem to date, and this time there wasn’t even any contraband to camouflage or stash away. Darcy wasn’t exactly right side of what passes for the law most of the time, but she would never risk jeopardizing Jane’s good work. 

There were only two passengers waiting in bay with Mack: the man with the spectacular shoulder-to-waist ratio and another man in a grey suit, both with their backs to her. It’s not a surprise to see so few: border planets were rough living. Most who travel there were Fed soldiers, and they had their own ride. The credits Jane had ‘ferred her will cover costs of getting there and to the next job, though, so passengers of any number were a nice bonus. Especially if they’d sprung for one of the nicer sleeping cubbies. 

Darcy stepped up next to Mack, her eyes locking on what might be the bluest set she’s ever seen, and she was lost for a really long moment before she can force herself to look away, to the other passenger. And then she was hard pressed not to let her own bug out of her face. She quickly loops a hand around Mack’s thick bicep and drags him as subtly as she can – which is, truthfully, not subtle at all – into a corner.

“Mack,” she hissed lowly. “What is a collar doing on my boat?”

“Easy, Cap,” Mack said, nonplussed. “I know you don’t really hold much with preachers and other religious folk…”

“I have nothing against the godly sort, you know that, but religious folk? Rarely that. Especially from the centrals. Look, he’s practically a Fed. Why can’t he take a Fed ship? Let’s send him to a Fed ship.”

“Fury pointed him in our direction.”

“Awww, Motherf—” Darcy cut herself off. She turned her back to Mack a moment, taking deep breaths and counting the latches on the huge, fancy container that must belong to one of the passengers, all polished sleek polished chrome that looks to weigh a ton. She sincerely hoped Mack made up some weight freight tax to upcharge for it. After she gathered herself a little, she turned back to grimace at Mack.

“Did he pay, at least, or did Fury just hang us out to dry?” 

“He paid,” Mack grinned. “Room rate too, so you can’t even stick him in the hold.”

“Ah, dammit,” Darcy said. “What about Tight Shirt, there? Fury send him too?”

“Nah, he found us on the boards. He’s just out of the Ag conservatory, and is heading to try to help spearhead a new farm on Mitra.”

“Really? He looks a little old for someone just out of conservatory.”

“I get the picture he’s been there a while, and that’s why he’s being sent as out of the way as Mitra. They’ll probably need more manual labour than anything and, well, not much harm he can do there.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, but he just kept smiling at her until she decided she had too much dignity to sputter any longer. “Alright, let’s get this over with,” she groused, spinning on her heel.

Darcy marched back to where her passengers were waiting, the collar looking placid while Farmer Hotness’ brow was furrowed in what appeared to be confusion. Given what Mack implied about taking forever to finish his program in the Ag school, Darcy had the feeling it was an expression he wore a lot. Good thing he was pretty, she supposed.

She set her hands on her hips and nodded toward the crew that was filing into the cargo bay, all but one member missing. It seemed her expression was telling, because Daisy caught her eye, tilted her head at the passengers, then gave a helpless shrug. Darcy nodded minutely, adding it to the mental list of things she’d deal with later.

“Afternoon,” she greeted her passengers, taking a deep breath to go into the usual spiel. “I’m Captain Lewis, and welcome aboard Shield Ship Lampyridae. As Captain, I’m in charge of this boat. I also take point in the flight deck when a second set of hands are needed or when the pilot needs a switch out. This here is most of our crew: Mack, you’ve met. He’s the ship mechanic and in charge of safety, so if the emergency tone sounds, you do as he says when you aren’t doing as I say. It’s unlikely we’ll have an event with any hostiles as far out in the sky as we’re going, but on this here lightning bug, we prep just in case.

“To Mack’s right is Fitz. He’s the maintenance tech and also in charge of billing and accounts, so if you have any issues there, he’s the one to see. Daisy—” the woman in question gave a little wave “does our system maintenance and also housekeeping, and she’ll show you to your bunker and where the lounge and mess are, post-briefing.

“Speaking of mess, fare is mostly simple, but Simmons, who you’ll meet later, is fairly competent when it comes to meals. Though I will warn you, if you do agree to test her experimental baking, there is a 50-50 chance you’ll end up seeing her in our other capacity as ship’s medic.” 

“Last but not least is May, the ship’s pilot.” Darcy gestured at the silent figure on the upper deck who had slipped in as usual with no fanfare. May inclined her head in acknowledgement, before gliding out just as quietly. The ship engines fired up shortly after, as May prepared them to leave atmo.

“And?”

“Pardon?” Darcy started in surprise when the passenger she was trying not to ogle spoke, looking immediately after like he’s startled himself by thinking out loud.

“Sorry,” he shrugged sheepishly. “It’s just… well, everyone else seems to have two jobs. Except Ms. May”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Well, May? She’s just the pilot.”

&-&-&-&-&

“Captain?”

“What’s up, Doc?”

As expected, Jemma grimaced slightly at the nickname, but made no comment. Still, her shoulders squared so Darcy noted it as progress: either the epithet is growing on her, or Jemma was going to get up the guts to ask her to stop soon. Darcy would be happy with either outcome.

“I was thinking,” Jemma said, then stopped, rubbing absently at a spot just under her collarbone. “Maybe I should just stay out of the way, until we get to Mitra. I can take my portions to my bunk, or Daisy or Fitz can bring some down when everyone’s had a share or…”

“But you love group dinners.” Darcy tilted her head before swinging her boots from where they were propped on one of Jane’s crate. She set down the pieces of the blaster she was putting back together after a thorough cleaning it really didn’t need. “Is it the collar?”

Jemma’s brow wrinkled a moment, but then she blinked, having put together what Darcy was referring to, and shook shakes her head vehemently.

Damn. Darcy had really been hoping for an excuse to suggest the preacher keep to his bunk. “Is this about the Farm Boy, then? Because I promise, Mack vetted him and you know Dais will have gone through his file by now. No flags.”

“It’s just…”

“You’re nervous,” Darcy said. “After the last near pass, I get it. But this dude is not going to notice anything amiss – or notice much at all, really. He took seven years to get through the Ag program and I’m pretty sure they passed him on a kindness. He got recommended to Mitra, for the Mother’s sake. Mitra.”

“Are you sure?” Jemma worried at her lip, and her hand came again to rub at that spot just near her sternum, hidden beneath the loose linen shirt. “What if I say something wrong, or Fitz slips on his words and someone asks…”

“Hey,” Darcy said. “Tell you what. I know I said I’d take point on the deck, but we’re pretty much in the clear zone for the next couple of hours. I can tell May to put it on autopilot for the dinner hour, and we can all be there to make sure no one makes a misstep.”

“Really?” Jemma’s face lit up, and Darcy wondered again if it’s really a muted version of what it used to be, though Darcy didn’t disbelieve Fitz’s assertions Jemma’s recovery isn’t as far along as the woman in question would likely insist it was if asked.

“Really.” Darcy confirmed. “We’ll have the first meal all family-style, just like you like it.”

“Oh, smashing!” Jemma said. “Legate Coulson brought fresh turnips I’ve used in a side and there are strawberries with real cream for dessert.”

She rushed out before Darcy can say anything, even as she sat up, her mouth agape. 

“Did I just get played?”

It wasn’t a question she meant to have answered, so she jumped when May’s mildly amused voice broke through the cargo bay. “Considering Daisy just gave her the thumbs up?”

“Yes,” Darcy sighed, shaking her head. “I totally got played.”

“It’s a good sign,” May said, her tone even and diplomatic once again.

“Yeeahhh,” Darcy drew out the word. “But I’m still putting them both on scut tonight.”

May’s lips lilted up almost imperceptibly, and then she slipped back out as silently as she came. Darcy leaned back into her chair and resumed putting her weapon back together. After all, couldn’t have the crew thinking she’s going soft.

&-&-&-&-&

“So there we were, the whole visiting delegate from Asgard staring at where we’d dropped in the middle of the room, little pieces of wood and dust still drifting down from the hole in the roof. Jane struggles up from the floor, but it takes her two tries because the massive dress robes we’d had to wear have tangled together and we don’t get them unknotted right away. I can see her trying to muster up some dignity in front of the Crown Prince she wanted to peep on, only she’s going scarlet between her mortification and the fact that Asgardians apparently do their meditating in very little clothing. So I just struggle up beside her and say, in the most nonchalant tone I can manage, ‘You were absolutely right, Jane, the room is much improved by a skylight.’”

Darcy finished her story with a flourish, then popped a fat strawberry in her mouth as the crew and their guests laughed. “We got stuck with cleaning duty for the rest of the cycle for that one, but it was totally worth it.”

“I can hardly believe that of the Ambassador,” Mack said, grabbing the bowl of cream from the table, and spooning a generous helping of the whipped concoction onto Jemma’s plate. “No arguing,” he said, cutting of her protests. 

“Oh, but there’s not much,” Jemma fussed.

“There’s plenty for all of us to have a good spoonful, no need for you to skimp. And Turbo mentioned you didn’t leave the lab all day, so I know you didn’t even have a protein bar,” Mack continued as though she hadn’t spoken. 

“Traitor,” Jemma muttered.

“C-c-couldn’t help it,” Fitz said. “He asked outright, and I wasnae gonna lie to my husband.”

“You’ve been married all of three cycles, Leopold Fitz, and you’ve been my best friend for—”

“What about you,” May broke in smoothly, before any crew bickering, fond as it would be, can startle their passengers. “Any hijinks at the Abbey, Legate?”

“Not nearly enough,” the priest said, his expression as placid and pleasant as ever. It would annoy Darcy more, except he also managed to drop two more strawberries on Jemma’s plate without her noticing with such impressive sleight of hand that Darcy had to give him some begrudging credit. He didn’t even make them do a formal blessing over the meal, had just said his thanks to the chef before quietly bowing his head for what Darcy assumed was his thanks to his deity. 

“What about you, Johnny?” Daisy said. “Got any whacky stories from Ol’ Aggie?”

And there was that confused expression again, though Darcy only partially blamed him for the consternation, considering Daisy asked the question around a mouthful of dessert.

“From the Ag school,” Jemma said helpfully, then made a vague gesture that Daisy seemed to interpret correctly. 

“Right, sorry,” Daisy said, then swallowed, throwing a cheeky grin at the rest of the table before continuing dryly. “It’s almost like my parents didn’t raise me to have proper table manners.”

Fitz nearly choked on his strawberry, and Mack patted him gently on the back. Both the Legate and Farmer Fantastic looked bewildered at that, but the crew didn’t bother to elaborate.

“So… school stories?” Darcy raised her carefully arched brows to prompt the future farmer to be forthcoming.

“Oh, no,” he shook his head, a flush creeping up from under the collar of his tight shirt. “N-n-no interesting stories. All just… regular school stuff.”

Darcy managed to refrain from sighing, but just barely. It was a shame, really, that someone so pretty appeared to be dull in more ways than the one. She might have been willing to take a ride if he was only less than a genius, but dumb and boring? Jane was going to be so disappointed when Darcy waved her.

“Well, what about—” 

Whatever the man of God was about to say was cut short when the ship gave a sharp lurch, drastic enough that the plates went sliding down the table and only the fast reflexes belonging to May and, surprisingly, Farmer Hotness, kept them from falling off the end. The lights dimmed a moment as though the power was being pulled low, and then there was the hitching sound that signaled the air latch being breached.

“Alpha posts, now!” Darcy snapped to action. She didn’t have a moment to spare to feel proud at the way her crew dispersed right away, but she knew that, after whatever this was ended, she was going to have to take several to praise them for it. 

Jemma grabbed both their passengers by the arms, tugging them toward the bunks, while Fitz and Daisy rushed to the engine control room. May headed up the stairs to see what could be done from the flight deck, while Mack and Darcy made their way toward the cargo bay, weapons drawn, to see what’s happening with the airlock. Suddenly, a roll of static came over their intercom, a voice breaking through the crackle.

“Attention, passengers and Shield Ship crew. By order of law, you are to stand down and surrender Captain Rogers and the asset to Hydra Unit 4X17. Do so peacefully and you won’t be harmed.”

Darcy glanced up at Mack, an incredulous look on her face even as the door of her boat was forcibly opened and the sound of boots on the metal filled the cargo bay, a contingent of soldiers marching in. There were eight foot soldiers and one commander, a taller, well-built man who would have been good-looking if not for the cruel smile on his face. The number was standard for a Hydra operation, since they took the nine heads thing fairly literally. Not standard, however, was the two dozen or so AI units that came in with them, gleaming silver faces and even shinier guns pointed at her and Mack.

Things was, that should not have been possible. Not taking them unawares, and certainly not hacking into her ship’s controls. 

“Uh, Daisy?” Darcy called, hoping that the crew member has been able to open the ship-wide comms, as per protocol.

“Yeah, boss, I’m working on it,” came Daisy’s strained voice. 

“So, I think there’s been a bit of a mistake here,” Darcy said easily, though she kept her gun trained on the leader, trying to ignore the number trained on her in return. She was a quick shot, but not that quick.

“No mistake,” said the Commander, giving her the kind of up and down look that would make her roll her eyes if it didn’t mean taking them off the target. 

“Uh, pretty sure there is,” she said. “’Cause, dude? I’m the Captain of this ship, and my name sure as hell ain’t Rogers.”

“He’s looking for me.”

And now Darcy really wanted to roll her eyes, because even though Jemma would have relayed the order to stay locked in their bunks until the Captain gave the all clear, Johnny Boy is walking into the cargo bay. And to make matters even more annoying, he’s trailed by the Legate, because clearly Darcy’s day hadn’t been absurd enough, what with her boat being commandeered by Hydra and a bunch of robots.

“Captain Rogers,” Commander Man smirked. “You’ve got something that belongs to Hydra. You don’t want this pretty little miss and her lapdog to get caught in the crossfire, you’ll make your way nice and quiet into our custody.”

“I don’t think so,” Farmer Hotness said, and suddenly it registered with Darcy. “I don’t know how you found us, but…”

“Wait, wait, wait. Hold up.” She held up her free hand. “Your file said your name was Storm. Johnny Storm.”

“I’m sorry about the deception, ma’am, and about putting you and your crew in danger, but I’m afraid—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, we’ll get to that. But seriously, dude? You did the fake name thing and what you came up with is Johnny Storm?”

“I didn’t come up with it,” Not-Storm muttered. 

“Perhaps this is something you might want to address at a later date,” Legate Coulson said calmly. “Now, gentlemen, surely we don’t need to have all these weapons drawn.”

“Shut up, collar!” One of the foot soldiers snapped. “Don’t think we won’t shoot you just because you’re robed up!”

“Let’s just keep calm, here,” Darcy said. “Very calm. Super calm. Jemma, don’t you think it is good that we keep super calm?”

At that, Jemma slunk her way in, raising her hands as a few guns turned on her at the Commander’s gesture.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Look what we have here. Thought you were dead.”

“Hello, Rumlow,” Jemma said evenly, even though can see she was trembling. Darcy swore under her breath. “Though I do wish you were.”

“Might want to save that death wish for yourself, princess, because you’ll be lucky if it’s just the stews they send you to when I drag you back. Maybe I’ll even ask to keep you for a while, as a reward for bringing back Hydra property.”

“People are not property.” Jemma spat the words, even as Darcy could see her lower lip begin quivering. “No matter if the Federation looks the other way.”

“Wow,” Darcy said, as Rumlow just smirked again. “And I thought I wanted to shoot him before.”

“You shoot me, little girl, and we’ll put so many holes in this boat, passing ships won’t know whether it’s leaking oil or blood.”

“Now see here—” 

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

Both Not Storm and Darcy were cut off when the Legate took a step forward. “Let’s take a moment and discuss things. I’m sure we can come to a peaceful resolution.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, glancing at Jemma before continuing pointedly. “Peaceful.”

“Oh, right,” Jemma said, straightening up. “Legate, Whatever They Said Your Name is, I’m truly sorry for the headache you’ll endure, but it can’t be helped. The rest of you lot, on the other hand…”

With that, she dropped the vial concealed in her hand. It shattered as it hit the metal floor, and the concentrated liquid dispersed into the air. As he’s standing closest to Jemma, it hits the Legate first. Just as he’s turning to her with a questioning glance, he pitched forward. Darcy winced at the clatter as he hit the floor, but she can’t worry about that until everyone else – that is, all who hadn’t had the benefit of the counteragent her crew dosed themselves with on the regular – was out for the count.

Both Rumlow and Not Storm sway, but stay upright even as the eight foot soldiers followed the Legate’s suit and dropped like meteoroids. 

“Uh, Jemma?” Darcy asked.

“Enhanced,” Jemma’s voice was strained. “Metabolizes the Dimethylheptylpyran more quickly. Much more quickly.”

“That’s right, princess,” Rumlow said. “I’ll admit, you did a fair job of sabotaging our efforts, but it turns out we were able to come up with a rival to the government serum. Now Rogers on the other hand? Pure Fed formula.”

“Then I guess we’ll get to find out whose is better,” Not Storm said. 

“If you can get past my army, Rogers, you’re on,” Rumlow replied, then threw his hands up.

“Get your tape measure out later,” Darcy bit out, tackling Rogers to push him behind one of Jane’s crates as the gunfire started, Mack diving in the opposite direction. “Jem, you got cover?”

“Yes, Captain,” Jemma called. “I can probably get to —”

“Stay put, and that’s an order,” Darcy barked, shoving her gun into Rogers’ hand. “You know how to use one of these?” 

“Yes,” he said. “But I’m not about to leave you unarmed.”

“Not unarmed. I told you, the crew comes is prepared for hostiles,” Darcy said, kicking up a hidden panel on the floor. She pulled out a couple of blasters, then stood up to fire at the advancing AI units before ducking back behind the crate. She got off several good shots, but barely knocked any back with her fire. From across the bay, Mack was having as little luck.

“Turbo!” Mack’s spoke low into the comms. “We’ve got an AI problem. Anything you can do, love?”

“O-o-on it. In the m-m-meantime, help’s c-c-coming,” Fitz’s voice comes over the comms, fear making the stutter his accident had left him with worse, though determination still rang through. 

“Give it up,” Rumlow goaded. “You don’t stand a chance. Tell your friends to come in nicely, princess, I might even be a little nice when I break you in. You might even like —”

Rumlow didn’t get to finish his sick taunt, cutting off with a grunt of pain as May dropped from the rail above, knocking him down. His gun flew from his hand, clattering among the crates somewhere. He was up fast, though, striking at May, who ducked from the blow and landed one of her own.

Darcy didn’t have time to watch the hand-to-hand combat through, as Rogers grabbed her and pulled her around the crate, firing behind him then using a metal panel – wait, was that the door to her hidey-hole? – to shield her from a volley of fire from a couple of the robots. 

“Fitz!” Jemma called over the comms. “The Garrett gambit!”

“R-r-ight!” Fitz said. Darcy heard rummaging, then some sort of clacking, and she hoped to the Mother he was assembling whatever it was he and Jemma had come up with in their other lifetime. May was getting tired, she could tell, but the enhanced Commander was looking flush as ever. “Just give me a —”

“No!” Jemma cried. “It’s got to be localized or —”

“The air’ll go, got it. Daisy’s on her way!” Fitz was breathless, but Darcy could hear the clattering of Daisy’s boots over the sound of gunfire moments later, loud on the metal grating and soon enough to give her hope.

“Take that, assholes,” Daisy shouted as she burst in, slamming her palm against the wall, even as one of the AIs turned to fire on her.

Several things happened nearly at once, all as though in slow motion. 

There was a pulse that ran through her, and the AI units all dropped at once, like puppets whose strings were cut. 

The gunfire stopped. The spare blaster in her hand, fully charged but an increment before, was suddenly dead and useless. 

The fancy chrome crate Darcy had been admiring earlier made a hissing sound, like air releasing, latches popping open and the lid began to rise. 

And Daisy. Daisy went stark white as red bloomed from under the palm she’d pressed to her stomach.

Time snapped back to speed at that. Jemma cried out, scrambling over to Daisy headless of Darcy’s previous order to stay put, catching her before she can hit the floor, Jemma’s own hands pressing to the wounds. Rogers moved to block May from what might have been a fatal blow. There was the sound of flesh striking flesh, and though the show of pugilism might have otherwise been entertaining, Darcy had other concerns.

“Did it work? Did the EMP work?”

“Yeah, Fitz,” Darcy said. “But Daisy’s down.”

“I need to get her to the med bay,” Jemma said. “But I have to keep her stable.”

“I’ll get the r-room set,” Fitz said. He was not one for the surgical part of Jemma’s work, but he’d worked with Jemma long enough to know what she’d need, and Darcy was thankful for that.

Mack’s eyes darted until they land on the crate the has come open. “The lid. Will that do, Doc?”

Jemma glanced to where he pointed, then nodded, before her attention was back on Daisy. Mack pulled at the crate until the lid lifted off the latches, rushing to lay it beside Daisy. He and Jemma rolled her onto it, then Jemma knelt on it, keeping the pressure on Daisy’s injuries. Darcy moved to take one end, hoping the adrenaline rush would carry her through carrying the weight of Daisy and Jemma, slight as they were. She locked eyes with Mack. “On the count of three?”

“If you’re quite done,” Jemma snapped, and Darcy was about to snap back when she realized the good doctor wasn’t talking to her as she’s elbowed out of the way, Rogers going to lift the makeshift stretcher. Darcy hustled to open the first set of doors instead, leaving May standing guard over Rumlow, subdued and glaring up at them all from where he was bound and gagged.

“One, two, THREE,” Mack said, and then Daisy and Jemma were lifted into the air. 

“Steve?”

A new voice broke through the silence, and Darcy’s mouth dropped open in shock as a very naked man with a metal arm sat up shakily from within the chrome crate, which looks to have been a disguised cryo-chamber. 

“Mother of Fucking Moons,” Darcy breathed out. 

“Where am I? Wh- What’s happening?”

“You’re safe, Bucky,” Steve said. “I’ve got to get this soldier to surgery, but then I promise I’ll explain. “

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I think you’d better.”

&-&-&-&-&

It was several allotments before he could, of course. First Jemma had to get Daisy stabilized, then she insisted on giving the man who’d come out of cryo a thorough check up too, not to mention the Legate, who’d woken up with the splitting headache, as predicted, a large gront egg rising from where his forehead had met the floor. And while that was going on, even though they were loathe to leave, Darcy, Fitz and May went to take care of the last of the Hydra business, leaving Mack to keep an eye on the members of her crew until Darcy could assess whether Rogers and his Bucky were as harmless as the fretting passenger insisted.

It meant the med bay was a bit crowded, though, when Rogers finally filled them in, since no one wanted to be left out. 

His name was Captain Steve Rogers, and he was a former Federation soldier, as was his companion, one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. They’d both undergone some top secret government procedures – ones Rogers admits neither of them had ever been fully informed on, nor had they cared to be when they jumped at the chance to take part of the experimental program. Rogers had defected, though, when his friend had gone missing, spent years searching through means less than legal to find out he’d been essentially sold by the Federation to Hydra. He’d found him, though, smuggled him out, with a plan to go to the far reaches of space, find a place to settle where the Federation didn’t really bother with.

“The organization that helped me, Rising Tide, they guaranteed their docs wouldn’t flag anything. And your ship seemed the least likely to get us on the radar,” Rogers said. “They shouldn’t have been able to track us.”

“Rising Tide?” Darcy asked.

“Yeah, they are an anti-Fed organization, dedicated to establishing independence for the planet,” Rogers explains.

“They were,” Daisy rasped. “Fucking Miles.”

“You’re awake!” Jemma said, rushing over to lift water to Daisy’s lips. “Oh, do keep still!”

“I’m keeping still,” Daisy said, wincing as her shifting – which was clearly not stillness – caused her pain. Jemma gave her an admonishing glance, but didn’t say anything as Darcy gestured at Daisy to continue, though she made a point of telling her patient to be careful.

“Rising Tide is no more a freedom-fighting agency than Hydra is now,” Daisy said bluntly. “I have no doubt the first thing they did after taking your transfer was sell you out to Hydra for twice the price.”

“They might have been good, at one point,” Darcy said kindly to Rogers, who was looking like someone slapped his mother. “But not anymore.”

“It’s why I left,” Daisy said. 

“You need to drop us off somewhere fast,” Rogers said. “I don’t care where. Anywhere. I don’t want to put your crew in any more danger. I swear, I did not mean to bring this on to you and yours. We’ll find some way to get to where no one will care about docs.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Daisy said. “I said I left Rising Tide. I didn’t say I couldn’t do what they do – and better – anymore.”

“Daisy,” Jemma started.

“Doc, all I need is my tablet. I can do it laying down. I will do it laying down.”

“But Hydra will still be able to track your ship,” Barnes said quietly. 

“I can take care of that laying down, too,” Daisy bragged, throwing her hands behind her head, then wincing since the motion pulled at her stomach. Jemma shook her head at her fondly.

“And they won’t be following us, either,” Darcy broke in. “Fitz has tangled up their works, and we’ll be long gone by the time they get their boat back on the move. And then they’ll have to decide whether they follow us, and risk running out of supplies, because we maybe did a bit of repurposing.”

“You left them alive?” Jemma said, then her shoulders dropped in relief when Darcy nodded. 

“Not my first choice,” she admits. “But we’d disarmed them, and I know how you feel about… being a part of more of that kind of thing.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said. Her hand flitted to the spot on her collarbone, and if their new passengers’ eyes follow her hand there, she pretended not to notice.

“Still,” Rogers said. “We won’t trouble you. Drop us where it works best for you. We’ll figure things out from there.”

“Captain Rogers,” the Legate cut in. “Have you perhaps considered that you are where you are meant to be?”

“Um, maybe not the time for a sermon, Legate,” Darcy said.

“Not a sermon,” Legate Coulson smiled. “But I can’t help but think that, of all the places to end up, isn’t this perhaps the safest they could be? A ship that is always on the move, one that already flies under the Federation’s radar by design, one that is already affiliated with an organization that does, truly, operate under the goals of freedom?”

Darcy sighed. He had a point. And she’d say as much, she supposed. It was probably ill-advised, adding two more Hydra fugitives to their little band of misfit outlaws, but hell. She’d always found ill-advised to be more fun. 

“So, Rogers,” she drawled, leaving off the title because she was the Captain on this boat, dammit. “Have you ever heard of a little thing called SHIELD?”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments make the Muse happy, and the happy Muse is a useful one. Also, I'm on Tumblr as @thestarfishdancer if you want to say hello.


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